


My web of lies

by Strudelmugel



Series: Spytalia [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Car Chases, Guns, Multi, Secret Identity, Secret Relationship, Spies & Secret Agents, Weapons
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-06-04 15:51:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6664777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Strudelmugel/pseuds/Strudelmugel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Now Peter Oxenstjärna- or Agent Seagull- had a plan, he could play his part in bringing down the notorious crime network Commonwealth, by befriending the one known member- young lackey Kuzey Adnan- but the bodies are piling up and now his own family is in the firing line. And just when things couldn't get more complicated, his growing attraction to the man he needs to betray puts him in an impossible situation that could blow up for the both of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Illness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I went and split 'my web of lies' into smaller fics. The first one is now called 'my ultimate nemesis' and goes up to chapter 18. The next chapters are here and will continue to be uploaded here until it's time to chapter fic 3 in the series.   
> Still, who remembers when this was starting out? When I actually made an effort to stick to the codes and conventions of a spy thriller, instead of this just being a mess of death and poor-taste jokes. Ah good times… Then again, pretty much anything I write can be summed up by death and poor-taste jokes.  
> So, without further ado, let’s crack on with the story so epic, if it was a film everyone would be played by Nicolas Cage!  
> Funnily enough, this chapter’s pretty mellow and more getting to know characters’ thoughts, but the next one will be pretty action-y.

At this point there was nothing much else he could do but promise things would get better and hope it would come true. Really though, he reasoned, could it actually get any worse?

Sadik looked around their tiny, cramped studio flat and sighed. Well, they could be homeless.

Then again, with everyone sleeping in one damp room, they weren’t that much better off; even the most run down of B&Bs would be an improvement. But things would change! Before, he didn’t need to be able to afford anywhere bigger and more comfortable, but now there were five occupants and five wages coming in, they would soon be out of here for good. He’d let the kids keep their earnings, but Kuzey and Temel were happy to contribute some of their Commonwealth money towards a new home, given that they were the ones thinking of moving in permanently. Stelios and Cora, however, were very much looking forward to the day they could finally go back to their mother and sunny Cyprus.

Sadik grimaced; had he even told Liz they were going back eventually? The thought had most probably slipped his mind.

Stelios was right; he was getting old and doddery. The cheeky little shit was even talking of putting him in a home.

Either way, that wasn’t something to worry about now.

He had far too many worries piling up to bother himself with future ones, not if he didn’t want to end up in hospital with insane blood pressure levels and a kaput heart. Everything seemed to be falling apart and he knew he didn’t know the full extent of their mess. The two youngest had seen something they shouldn’t have, as had Kuzey, but they wouldn’t tell him what, and he was terrified of the power Liz had over them all. She was bad news and he loved his family too much to see her or her little henchmen just murder them. Not his children! Not on his watch!

Yet he couldn’t help them. He didn’t know how to talk to them or get them to open up on what they were hiding. He hadn’t been in their lives long enough to get them to confide in him, and even if they did, even if he knew exactly what he was up against, what could he do about it? He was just one man without a shred of power. He couldn’t stop Commonwealth. He couldn’t stand up against such a dangerous organisation and expect to last a second. All he could do was play along and hope his children did the same. Or their lives would be very short indeed.

Yes, that was it. They just needed to keep their noses clean until Sadik could think of a way out of this mess. He hadn’t been there long, but he’d already heard the rumours. The whisperings he’d had to piece together himself. Every single person who’d tried to back out or betray Commonwealth had paid with their existence. Had soon been tracked down and murdered without a thought. All but one man, though even he paid the ultimate price for it. How had he done it? How did he become the sole, lucky survivor? And what was this ‘ultimate price’? Sadik needed to know, but he knew he’d arose suspicion by asking. Was there another way to find out?

Even just thinking about their situation made his chest hurt, and he hissed as a hand shot up, resting over his heart. He leaned back in his armchair, noticing that Cora was glancing over at him in concern, but when he caught her eye, she scowled and turned away, focusing once more on her brother.

It had been tricky to explain that Stelios needed to stay at home because he was ill. Mr Morgan didn’t believe that a grown man would need a day off over something as trivial as a stomach bug and eventually Sadik had needed to stop being tasteful with his excuses, so simply told him there was no point in Stelios coming in because he would be on the shitter for the whole day. A rather disgusted D’Andre had stopped pestering him over his son’s absence then, but he certainly wasn’t any happier at the news, especially with Temel and Cora at school. Still, Kuzey had stayed late to make up for the lost work, and to avoid Stelios whining about his bowels too, most likely.

“So what caused that then?” he asked, leaning forward.

At least it was evening now, and the blistering sun was finally setting behind the tower blocks identical to the one they lived in. It had been another long day, and Sadik was just glad to not be stuck behind the wheel any more. How many boxes of evil things did Liz need delivering? And why all the hurry?

He had a chill on his back too, from hours spent cramped inside a refrigerated van. The fact that he was required to drive a refrigerated van made him all the more nervous. Was he transporting food? That didn’t seem so immoral. Well, it wouldn’t if it was just factories and supermarkets he was travelling to and from, but labs and abattoirs too? Scientists needed to eat, he guessed, but he had a horrid suspicion that those boxes didn’t contain luncheon meats and bottles of guava juice.

And it was those kinds of thoughts that would get him in trouble. It was none of his business and the less he knew, the fewer reasons Liz and D’Andre would have to silence him.

Stelios groaned, and Sadik looked up to find him still sprawled on the sofa, clutching one of his pretty, beaded cushions as Cora draped yet another blanket over him and sat on the sofa, on his legs.

“Maybe it was all the funny German food,” she suggested, “it could’ve upset his stomach.”

“We’ve been eating the same stuff though, more or less, and none of it involves German food,” Temel replied, who- like his sister- was perched on Stelios’ legs, much to the man’s discomfort. But hey, there was one sofa in the flat, and no one else was allowed in Sadik’s armchair. “And I don’t even know what German food is.” He was sitting there cradling something in his hand, stroking it gently with one finger whilst Cora looked over curiously, but didn’t comment on it.

“Wurst, so that’s probably why you haven’t had any,” she told him.

“I think it might be those pills you’ve been taking,” Sadik piped up, glaring at Stelios.

“The painkillers?” he poked at the pile of paper bags the others had provided for him that were now stacked on the floor, in case he was sick again. It seemed if it wasn’t one thing it was the other with this illness. “I took them for this stomach ache I had and it didn’t work so I took more and…” He grimaced.

“And now you’re shitting to death,” Kuzey finished for him, fumbling with keys and shopping as he stumbled through the door.

“What took you so long?” asked Sadik, only half-scolding.

“Decided to work late and stop and get some groceries,” he replied, “well, anything was better than being stuck in a room with the exploding shitpipe there.”

Stelios could only groan in response.

“I got you some fruit juice,” Kuzey told him, taking the cartons out of a plastic bag and balancing them on his back. “And some actual fruit, and other stuff too, if you can manage.”

Another groan.

“Put them in the fridge,” Sadik growled, “before they start going bad.”

“Right, course baba,” Kuzey quickly gathered up the shopping; if there was one thing Sadik hated it was anything going to waste, and the habit of frugal living certainly wasn’t going to stop just because they had a bit of money now.

“So how have you all been?” he called from the fridge.

“Good, until we came home,” Temel replied, “it smells funny in here.”

“That’s your brother you’re talking about!” snapped Cora.

“Stomach not any better?” Kuzey sighed as he closed the fridge door and walked over, leaning against the back of the sofa.

“I’m empty,” Stelios groaned, “seriously, it’s just sadness coming out now.”

“It can’t be that-”

“My spine came out a few hours ago, I’m sure of it!”

“That’s disgusting,” Kuzey wrinkled his nose. “So you won’t want any soup yet?”

Stelios paused. “What kind?”

“Lentil.”

Stelios licked his lips before sighing. “I guess I could chance it.”

“Great, well you know where the pans are. Get on with it; I’m sure everyone else is peckish too.”

“Kuzey!” whined Stelios, “I’m ill!”

“Kuzey, go make your brother some soup, and stop arguing,” Sadik breathed heavily, hand on his chest once more. He loved his children dearly, but really, their arguing was causing him nearly as much stress as his job at the moment. He was too old to be part of a household that constantly fought anymore.

Four pairs of confused eyes stared up at him; Sadik never snapped at Kuzey.

“Right, on it,” Kuzey pulled himself away from the sofa and made his way to the corner kitchen. As he began pulling pots and pans out with a clatter, Temel decided to make his new toy known, by placing it on Cora’s cheek.

“What the hell is that?” she snapped, raising an eyebrow as it peeled off, and she found herself staring at a dark, sticky lump on her skirt.

“It’s my magnetic rock,” replied Temel, scooping the rock up in his hands.

“A what now?”

“Magnetic rock! Look!” Temel stuck the rock to his forehead, grinning widely. “I found it in the grass on the way home! Why would someone throw away such a cool rock?”

“Maybe it’s someone’s rock and they dropped it?” Cora exclaimed, poking him in the face.

“Well they should’ve taken care of it better, and now it’s mine,” Temel nuzzled the rock with his cheek whilst Sadik laughed, a booming laugh that nearly made Cora jump out of her body.

“Stelios, would a magnetic rock make you feel better?” asked Temel, staring down hopefully at his brother, still on his stomach groaning in pain.

Stelios gave a grunt that he took to mean 'yes'.

Delighted, Temel jumped up and wandered over to the other end of the sofa, placing the rock on Stelios’ cheek and stroking his hair.

“I hope you’ll get better soon,” he cooed, “work isn’t fun without you!”

“You think so?” Stelios managed a weak smile as Cora leaned closer, studying Temel’s ‘rock’ closely for the first time. She’d have assumed that by now he’d know that for something to be magnetic, it needed to be attracted to metal, and despite the amount of copper jewellery he wore, Stelios was not made of metal. What the hell had Temel even found?

Well, she soon realised exactly what was stuck to her brother’s face.

“That’s a dried up slug!” she cried, and a moment later she was on the floor as Stelios jumped up shrieking. The slug landed inches from her left eye and across the room, Kuzey was shouting at his brother as Stelios threw up in the sink.

“I bought you some paper bags!” Sadik cried as Temel searched for his rock, and in the confusion, Cora picked up the slug and ran to the nearest window, wrenching it open and throwing the thing outside.

“Ew,” she muttered, wiping her hands on her top as Temel let out a cry.

“My rock! You threw my rock out the window!”

“It was a slug,” replied Cora through gritted teeth.

“Baba!” Temel climbed onto Sadik’s lap, “my rock went out the window!”

“I think my deposit’s gone out the window too,” he replied with a sigh, resting his chin in his hand and not even telling his son off for sitting in his armchair.

“They actually made you pay a deposit for this place?” Cora glanced around in relative disgust. She, like the rest of the family, hated the flat, with its peeling wallpaper and black mould in every corner. The only other room they had was a tiny bathroom, and as the lifts were in a perpetual state of broken, they had to climb up 7 floors every time they came home from work or school. Not to mention the constant struggle to determine which neighbours were worse: the ones forever arguing or the one always playing their music at full blast, or maybe even the guy with the collection of large, noisy guard dogs.

“Things will get better,” Sadik assured them, stroking Temel’s hair as Kuzey and Stelios bickered, and Cora raised an eyebrow sceptically. “I promise, okay?”

“Yeah? We’ll see.”

 

…

 

“You drink a lot of tea, don’t you.”

Tsvetan looked up at Luca’s comment, shrugging as he continued to warm his hands on his cup.

“What of it?”

“Well,” Luca frowned, “are you ill? No one I know drinks tea when they’re well, besides you and Seagull, but he’s English so I kind of-”

“There are other places that drink a lot of tea,” Tsvetan smiled into his cup, “and I, for one, am deeply calmed by herbal tea.”

“Don’t most people reach for horse tranquillizer for those kind of kicks?”

Tsvetan laughed. “Yes, but there are two words that put me off doing that: horse, and tranquillizer. If it can subdue a horse, I don’t want it in my body. Plus, I’d get found out and fired, and I quite like this job.”

“Indeed,” Luca looked around at the rather small office he now shared with Tsvetan. Well, he had a tiny corner with a collapsible desk and a phone, but he supposed he was just starting out. Eventually he’d work his way up and get his own office, one that was decorated tastefully and didn’t reek of cigarette smoke.

Besides the pair of them, only the two leaders remained in the building, hidden away in their offices filling out paperwork and typing reports. All four should’ve gone home hours ago, but none really wanted to. Luca wasn’t opposed to hard work, and knew Tsvetan and Andrei were close, so the nicer things Tsvetan had to say about him, the more likely it was that Andrei would finally accept him.

Still, he liked Tsvetan, somewhat. It was clear they weren’t each other’s first choice of company, and Luca had never known him when he wasn’t grieving, but the man seemed to have taken him under his wing. He was much older than the other agents, only Daniél and Anri coming close. But as far as the South Berlin Division was concerned, he was team dad. Team drunk, angry dad, that is.

Tsvetan was gruff, and handled emotions as well as normal people would handle juggling chainsaws blindfolded whilst unicycling across a tightrope stretched across an active volcano, but at the same time there was something endearing about him. He certainly made an effort to be polite to Luca, and was a refreshing change from Andrei’s hostility and Peter’s rather creepy idolisation. In addition, he and Franz were getting along now they’d had a chance to get to know each other, and found they had a lot in common. Dress sense, for one thing.

Even if politeness _wasn’t_ something that Luca highly valued, he knew he couldn’t comment on Tsvetan’s tacky interior design, given that a large chunk was bought by Alin for his office, and Luca wasn’t sure which was which. They were both equally tasteless, in that sense, he noted as he glanced from the Azis poster to the dragon ornament to the venus flytrap to the sequined skull, and not to mention a variety of full ashtrays and numerous framed photographs of Alin and the children on his desk, which he would occasionally stroke. But all in all, the place looked like a second bedroom for Tsvetan: personal and probably lived in more than his actual bedroom. Unfortunately, though he enjoyed the man’s company and their thoughtful, intelligent conversations, it wasn’t an environment he cared to be in. He could probably handle not looking around all day, but the constant smoking was too much.

“You know that’s bad for you,” Luca peered through the cloud of cigarette smoke at Tsvetan, still puffing away.

“What, this?” he held up his cigarette, a bitter grin on his face. “What’s it gonna do? Kill me?”

“Well, yes, really.”

Tsvetan laughed. It wasn’t a kind laugh though, but the laugh of a man consumed by moroseness, on the brink of madness, even. “You know, my grandfather lived to be a hundred!”

“Smoking?”

“Minding his own business.”

Luca huffed. “Well could you at least smoke out the window?”

“Andrei would throw a fit. He doesn’t even like the blinds being open, let alone the windows.” He shrugged, smiling slightly. “But since he’s been getting on my nerves lately, and you seem too pretty to have your lungs clogged with shit, I’ll comply. Could use a break anyway.” He moved over to the window, forcing it open and sitting on the sill.

“You know,” began Luca, “that’s the most you’ve ever said to me in one go.”

“I think it might have been the most I’ve said to anyone in one go, including my husband.” Tsvetan smiled and snorted, staring at the floor in a haze of nostalgia.

“Oh,” Luca frowned, “how come?”

Tsvetan shrugged, stubbing his cigarette out in a plant pot, its resident long dead, and lighting another. “Not a talker, 'specially when I don't know you. I’m used to you now, I guess. And you have a trustworthy face.”

“And Alin didn’t?”

Agent Yogurt regarded him in amusement at that. “No, his was more mischievous. That’s not to say that I didn’t trust him, quite the opposite, really. Besides, he did all the talking in the relationship.”

There was silence between the two, Luca taking in his new colleague, every line and detail thrown into contrast by the single, working desk lamp.

“You really should be going home and getting some sleep,” he commented.

“Well you’re one to talk,” Luca commented back.

This time, Tsvetan’s laugh was kind, playful even. “Ah, but you have a busy day tomorrow! Making Seagull look unrecognisable is hardly a task to be undertaken lightly, as I’m sure you’re aware.”

“Indeed,” Luca sighed, “but I don’t fancy going home just yet.”

“Likewise. Keeping an eye out on my brother-in-law is a full time job, but don’t tell him I said that. He seems to think I’m the only one who’s been delicate as of late. Plus, he’s technically being paid to look out for me, not the other way around.”

“I see,” Luca chewed a nail as he thought; a terrible habit, he knew, but one he’d been unable to shake lately. “I know he’s like family to you, and he’s our boss and all, but I’m not sure I like him.”

Tsvetan shook his head. “Understandable, under the circumstances. Andrei is starting to become someone I’m not proud of. I’m almost ashamed to call him family.”

“So he wasn’t always like this then?”

“Quite the opposite, really.” Tsvetan finally dragged himself off the window sill, shutting the thing to block out the night chill. His cigarette joined its twin in the plant pot, and he lowered himself into his desk chair with a grunt, rubbing his back before continuing. “The thing that drew me to Andrei was how bright he was, in intelligence and personality. I liked the kid; he could make me laugh. And I guess in a way I was also his step-father, given how much younger he is than myself and Alin.”

“What happened?”

“Besides the Radacanu-Borisov murders?” Tsvetan raised an eyebrow, “well, there’s the stress of destroying Commonwealth before we’re shut down, coupled with this business with a mole.”

“Do you think he’s on to something?” asked Luca, “you know, do you think there’s one too?”

“Possibly. It would explain a lot, at least.”

Luca gulped. “And do you, you know, think I’m the one to blame?”

Tsvetan thought for a moment. “Look, I want to believe you’re innocent, kid, just like I want to believe each and every one of us is innocent, but to be brutally honest, I’d rather believe it was someone who hadn’t been in my life long, rather than a comrade I’ve known for years and fought alongside.”

Luca nodded, staring at the ground.

“Don’t take it personally,” Tsvetan added, “it’s not meant to be a personal attack, but I have worked with this people every day for so long, completed dangerous missions with them, learnt their strengths, their weaknesses, their fears, hopes, everything you could think to learn. I want to think I could trust these people with my life, and Andrei does too. For him, it’s easier to just blame you than accept someone he’s close to might be betraying him, even if it clouds his judgement.”

Luca said nothing, refusing to look at Tsvetan.

“I just hope he’ll accept the possibility before we all end up dead, because I am not to blame.”

“As do I,” Tsvetan agreed, “because it might be you, it might be me, or it might be someone else and we need to keep all possibilities open.”

“I understa-” Luca jumped slightly as the phone burst into shrill ringing, fumbling with the receiver as he pressed it to his ear.

“Hello, Patch motors customer service line, my name is Loukas. How may I help you?” His chirpy voice rattled off the code with ease as Tsvetan watched in apprehension; phone calls this late never bode good news.

“Officer Hassan?” he asked with a frown, and Tsvetan shook his head. Oh yes, bad news once more.

“I see,” Luca frowned into the receiver, “are you serious? ...We’ll be right there!” And with that, he slammed the phone down and vaulted over the desk.

“What the fu-”

“Quick! Follow me!” Luca cried as he darted out the door, “we have to get Patch and Magyar!”

 

…

 

He knew he was going mad.

Andrei’s hands shook as he gripped his cup of coffee, alone in his office with only a cloud of grim thoughts for company. He sat in almost pitch black, quite forgetting to switch on a light as the sun set and hadn’t noticed that he could barely see his own hands. His hair was slipping out of its ponytail and his goatee was a mess, left unshaved for days. The holiday brochure Agent Seagull had cheekily left on his desk was now screwed up in a ball at the bottom of his bin. Little bastard.

He didn’t need Tsvetan to tell him he was falling apart. He knew. He was trying to fight it.

But how could he? Everything seemed to be piling up until he was sure they would never get out of his mess. He couldn’t trust his own agents and that fact terrified him until he was sick with paranoia.

They were supposed to be a team, an unstoppable force of elites that ensured national and international peace. They were nine trained professionals, hand picked by the government to keep the population safe in times of crisis.

How were they supposed to fight anyone when they were crumbling from the inside? They were his friends, and before this he’d have trusted each and every one with his life. But now? He wanted to, and knew that the majority were loyal to him and the DSA, if only he knew who was betraying him.

Luca, Anri and Monique were still his top suspects, but he knew he had to consider everyone, because it could be anyone.

What if Franz thought having a Commonwealth assassin go after his husband would remove suspicion from himself? If Angie had been set up for a fall, that might explain why Lars was still alive. Or had Franz planned to murder Lars all along? Talk about marital problems.

And even though he didn’t seem smart enough for such a thing, it could be Peter. He had his own agenda, though since his siblings’ deaths was his sole drive, it made little sense why he’d try to bump off another one. Unless Lars’ attack was supposed to serve as a warning, or punishment for some sort of failure. But that’s what happened when you put trust in a loose cannon such as Agent Seagull. He was good, but did things by his own rules.

Oscar was a possibility too. His brother and sister had yet to be targeted and, although it could just be a matter of time, it did raise several red flags with him. The somewhat pompous Australian played by the book, though he did have an imagination on him, and very little was known about his extended family- or even direct family, besides Jemima and William. He was also the newest member of the North Berlin Division. Could he be the man they were after? It would answer some questions, but on the other hand, what the hell was Commonwealth doing hiring someone so young and inexperienced for what could be a crucial mission to them?

And then there was Daniél Bajusz, or Agent Magyar.

Humoured, secretive and hardworking best summed the division leader up, and he was one of Andrei’s closest friends, even if he had despised Alin with all his being. Andrei believed he was someone he could trust, was someone to rely on. But now?

Daniél never talked of his past, and Andrei could count the things he knew about Daniél’s life on one hand. He was from Hungary, Feliks was without a doubt his closest friend, and he was the original member of any Berlin division. Andrei never recalled him mentioning family, and he wondered if Agent Magyar had any. Surely he must have, unless he was an orphan. Still, no family meant nothing for Commonwealth to target.

But Daniél? Even the thought of it pained Andrei. Anyone but him! It would be less agonising to find out it was Seagull or Edelweiss!

Maybe they really should cut all ties with the North Berlin division, and he would consider it, if that hadn’t been one of the three conditions for the South Berlin division to still be existing right now.

Oh what was Ludwig going to say about all this?

Andrei frowned. Ludwig? Could he be their man? The higher up with every piece of information about them at his disposal? Or even the two polizei they often ran into on missions. Officers Hassan and Nguyễn knew almost as much as they did at times, and certainly would’ve had the inside knowledge to pass on to Commonwealth.

Andrei groaned and rested his head in his hands. Enemies! Everywhere around him, there were enemies and he didn’t know which of his thoughts were real and which were paranoid delusions anymore.

Maybe a holiday wasn’t the worst idea after all, though he loathed to think of what mess he’d come back to if he left those four idiots to their own devices for a week.

No, he’d stay here, and not let anyone know he was shattering inside. He had to remain in control, at least on the surface, because he was the one with the answers, who knew exactly what was going on, the one people turned to in times of uncertainty and if he fell, the others would soon follow.

But he could do it. He’d see all and know all and maybe, just maybe, he could catch that mole before it was too late.

“Agent Patch!” Luca burst in through the door, stalling as the darkness caught him off guard. It took mere seconds for his expression of urgency to return. Andrei, meanwhile, was caught between irritation and apprehension, not only at the interruption, but at Agents Magyar and Yogurt behind him, peering through the door with grey faces. He decided it was best to not let the latter feeling show though.

“Fondue! I thought a man like you would know better than to barge into a room without knock-”

“They found him!” cried Luca. “They actually found him!”

Maybe because it was late, but everything he said seemed to be going straight over Andrei’s head.

“Found who?”

Luca looked at him like he really was insane. “What do you mean, 'who'? Agent Phoenix! They found Feliks!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah this was longer than I planned it, but I really wanted to get deep into those characters’ minds. Funnily enough, most of this was written in the past few days, as opposed to the past few months; it’s amazing what panic after procrastinating will do to you. And no, Stelios’... plight totally wasn’t inspired by true events [help me] [and my arse].  
> I promise more chapters will be written sooner! But yeah if you’re wondering why I’m uploading a whole fuckload of stories, it’s because I wanted to give you all a week’s worth of stuff to read whilst I’m in Ireland on holiday [thus can’t write/draw/internet]. Wow, last time I went to Ireland I was writing Red Doll! Though this time I’m going to Donegal instead of Cork.  
> Oh, and the magnetic rock is based off something a cousin did once.


	2. The river

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck I need to update this more, especially since it’s another long one and I’d like to finish this before the machines rise up and destroy us all.  
> Plus it’s actually quite fun to write, you know, set in modern times in the real world, funny, sad, action-y, angsty, all that good stuff. Ah I’ve missed this universe and characters. But holy shit no more hiatuses for this fic I promise!

“He’s alive? He’s turned up?” Andrei shot up, and the combination of hunger and blood rush almost sent him crashing to the floor in a humiliated lump, but he supported himself on the desk, leaning heavily and hoping no one had noticed. He caught Tsvetan looking at him in concern and realised he’d not been so lucky. The other three were still in shadow, Agent Patch's eyes still unused to the bright light of the hallway and it hurt to look at them.

“Well,” Luca added with a grimace, “part of him has, at least.”

Andrei frowned. “What do you mean ‘part’? What have they found? His head? Toenail clippings? His balls?”

There was a pause before Luca spoke again. “Erm, none of the above. Now come on!” And he dashed out the door.

“None of the above?” Andrei felt it was safe to start walking, and he hobbled over to Agents Yogurt and Magyar, “what does he mean?”

“We don’t know,” Daniél shrugged, clearly agitated, “he won’t say.”

“Seriously?” Andrei narrowed his eyes and pushed past, “all the interrogation techniques you know between you, and you come to me saying he won’t tell you anything?”

“We’re not going to use them on a colleague!” exclaimed Tsvetan, following with Magyar.

Luca was waiting by the lift, tapping his foot impatiently, and when the doors opened he squeezed himself inside before the others had even reached it. He barely waited for them to join him in the lift before pressing the down button and closing the doors.

“Agent Fondue,” began an irate Andrei, “I demand you tell me what’s going on.”

Luca shook his head. “I don’t want to. It’s too much to, well, repeat. Please, you have to see for yourself.”

Andrei exchanged glances with Daniél before letting out a sigh. “Feliks is dead, isn’t he?”

Luca could only give a shaky nod before bursting into tears.

 

…

 

Okay, it seemed Officer Hassan was right, Gilbert noted with a grimace as he drew his boat alongside the corpse bobbing downriver, the only thing visible being its trademark back tattoo, sullied by the dirty river water. That was definitely Mr Łukasiewicz. And most certainly not in the best condition either.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispered as he took in the damage and readied the nets. He’d been on the river police for years now, but never, absolutely never, had he seen anything as disgusting as this. Feliks Łukasiewicz was a menace, even more so than the rest of the DSA, but no one deserved this, and he didn't even know a fraction of the full story yet. 

Gilbert supposed it wasn’t fair, what he’d thought. He wasn’t Łukasiewicz’s biggest fan, but the man had certainly been useful in past investigations, and he had some brass balls on him to do what he did, Gilbert had to begrudgingly admit. Not anymore though, he noted with a wince as he observed what was left of the guy before wrapping him in a canvas blanket. Would there be any way of knowing what happened during this man's last few hours or even days to lead to this? 

Commonwealth were a right bunch of sick bastards.

The radio on his lapel buzzed as, on the bank, Ludwig tried to find out any news about the body that had been washed up, but Gilbert couldn’t reply. There was no way to explain to his brother what he’d just dragged onto his boat, so elected to let the evidence do the talking for him.

 

...

 

Daniél was the only one awake enough to drive, and the four men had clambered into his tiny Balaton, left in the car park though Luca was certain it should be left at the dump. The thing was older than every one of them, clearly not built for four adults, and Luca supposed clown outfits would be the most appropriate attire in this situation, had the atmosphere not been so dreary. Andrei, being the smallest, was in the back with Luca, knees to his chest and still- despite the discomfort and their shock and sorrow- managed to fall asleep pretty quickly. Luca studied his face closely, noting how the bags under his eyes were darker than even Tsvetan’s. The man’s face had a greyish-yellow tinge, with visible cheekbones and unkempt facial hair, and he swore Andrei had worn that suit yesterday too. It smelt like it anyway. He did feel sorry for his boss, as much as they didn’t get along; Luca himself felt exhausted from his job, but who knew how he’d handle Andrei’s. And with all that’s happened recently.

Daniél calling back for directions prevented Luca himself from falling asleep next to Andrei, as much as he’d have liked a brief nap, and he just focused on mumbling out what Hassan had barked down the phone to him.

Eventually, Daniél pulled into a car park by the river Spree, illuminated by the flashing lights of police cars as dozens of Polizei milled about filing reports and writing up notes, among them Officers Hassan and Nguyễn, talking to Ludwig sternly. Luca shrank back as Daniél turned off the engine; Ludwig’s presence never meant good, something that had been drilled into him pretty keenly by the others.

As Daniél bounded towards the commotion, Tsvetan pushed his own seat forward to let the others out of one of only two doors on the vehicle, and Luca gently nudged his boss awake.

“Five more minutes, Leenie,” Andrei mumbled into Luca’s shoulder, and even Tsvetan found himself smiling. 'Leenie' was the nickname Alin only allowed his little brother to use.

Luca suppressed a chuckle and nudged his boss harder. As adorable as the unconscious man was, and no matter how desperately he needed sleep, they were here for a reason, and a tragic one at that.

“Wakey, wakey boss,” he cooed, climbing out of the car as Andrei stirred.

“Where are we?” he asked groggily.

“The crime scene.”

That seemed to wake him up. Andrei rubbed sleep from his eyes, clambering out after his colleagues. “Please tell me it’s a ‘found missing person alive and well’ kind of crime scene.”

“Afraid not,” Luca answered grimly; “we have a long night ahead of us.”

Andrei sighed and rubbed his face, “what else would we have? But no, please tell me this is a mistake.”

Luca chose his words carefully before replying. “Well, Officer Hassan told me they found a torso that was likely to belong to Agent Phoenix and they were in the middle of fishing it out the Spree.”

“So it might not be him?” Andrei raised an eyebrow, dull eyes sparkling just briefly.

“Be realistic here,” Luca gave a sigh, “when were we ever this lucky?”

“It’s almost scary that our reputation for being incredibly unfortunate has preceded us,” Andrei joked, “but honestly, a torso? What did Hassan even mean like that?”

Luca folded his arms. “I suppose he meant the chest and abdomen minus head and limbs.”

“Thank you, Morgens,” Andrei rolled his eyes and pushed past, looking a little green in the face. Luca followed as he joined the others, Ludwig grimly shaking his head at Daniél’s questions.

“Officer Beilschmidt will hopefully be bringing the body to shore any moment now,” Ludwig was saying, referring to his older brother in the river police, “then you can see for yourself. I’m afraid he hasn’t been responding to my messages.”

“It can’t be him,” Daniél was muttering to himself, “it can’t be. Feliks has to be okay! That isn’t him in the river.”

Officer Nguyễn sighed. “Well here he comes, though, honestly, do not get your hopes up. We know what we saw.”

“So you and Officer Hassan found the body?” Luca asked, tape recorder out and struggling to hold it along with a tiny notebook and pen, though Ludwig helped him place the recorder into his blazer pocket after a few seconds watching the boy flail about.

“Indeed,” Officer Nguyễn replied, “we were parked upriver when we saw it float past; even through the murky water the tattoo was unmistakable. We've both have had to administer first aid to Mr Łukasiewicz in the past; we know what he looks like.”

“We will soon find out, either way,” Officer Hassan added, nodding over to where Gilbert’s boat was pulling up, engine rattling and spluttering as he threw ropes to the officers to tie down on the shore. There was a dark lump on the deck, one Luca didn’t want to know the contents of.

Officer Nguyễn helped Officer Beilschmidt unload the lump, a whole heap of something wrapped in canvas, onto a rickety camping table, and everyone crowded around as the older Beilschmidt brother unwrapped his grisly parcel.

It was easy to confirm the body- or what was left of it- belonged to Feliks Łukasiewicz. No one else had such art on his back, the beautiful, intricate phoenix that gave him his codename, deep crimson and gold, engulfed in snaking tendrils of flame. It was something Agent Seagull had contemplated recreating for himself as his own tattoo, it was such a beautiful piece. But now it was barely visible under the mud covering the torso.

Andrei gagged as he stared at it, at the clean sawing of flesh and bone as every limb had been carved off, the head gone the same way, and when Gilbert turned the corpse over, they all saw the deep cut running from the base of the neck all the way down to… Anderi averted his eyes at the sight. Feliks was empty inside, quite literally. His organs, both internal and external, had been removed by what only could’ve been a professional.

“Fucking Jesus Christ,” Tsvetan hissed as he turned away, gagging and covering his mouth, “what have they done to him?”

“Some really fucked up shit,” Andrei replied weakly, turning to Luca just in time to see him fall to the floor with a thump, face paper-white and not responding.

“Some forensic scientist you are,” he commented with a sigh.

 

...

 

Whilst Andrei dragged a faint Luca somewhere he could recover in peace, Tsvetan and Daniél stood at the side of the river, further down from the commotion. Agent Yogurt had wanted to get away from the sight of his cousin’s body, and felt it would do Agent Magyar no good to stay too.

The night was quiet here, the only sounds being muffled conversation and the flow of the river. Tsvetan was mesmerised as lights from the buildings opposite danced across the inky water, ripples sending them into a sensual dance across their glass surface.

Not for the first time, Tsvetan wished he’d pursued a career in poetry instead.

As Daniél sobbed into the railing, he wondered how many more people he would have to lose doing this. His parents had died of old age years ago, but there were so many siblings of his still living throughout the Balkans that he’d managed to keep secret; surely they would not be targeted. Then there was Katya and her siblings, Katya herself working closely with the DSA and police on these cases. Was there any way of convincing her to go into hiding?

Then there was little Andrei and the rest of the Berlin spies. How many of them would live to see another year?

The river’s surface was hypnotising. He stared into its murky depths, its endless march onwards. It would be so easy, to just fall forward and join his husband and children wherever they were. His desire for the pain to end chipped away at the mental wall keeping him from jumping. What was the point in going on? People were dead because of him, people he loved with all his heart, and more would soon follow. His searing desire for revenge, to kill every single person responsible for Alin’s demise, was slowly being extinguished the longer he stared into that river’s heart. One simple movement, and he could feel Alin’s arms again, see his children’s smiling faces.

“Tsvet,” Daniél growled in a way that was probably supposed to be soothing.

“I’m fine,” Tsvetan replied, voice hoarse.

“Bullshit,” the other man punctuated his comment with a laugh. “We’re both thinking the same fucking thing.”

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Tsvetan joked.

“Come on now,” well, at least Daniél was smiling, “we have to, you know, deal with this.” His face crumpled. “Feliks wouldn’t want us to end everything because of him, and, as hard as it is, and fuck I’ve not even began to let this sink in, we have to let ourselves grieve and move on, some day. I mean, we knew this was coming, right?”

“You were hoping as much as I was, you bastard.”

Daniél was crying once again now. “Shut up. You know I was. He’s my best friend!”

“He’s my cousin.”

With watery eyes and a wobbling mouth, Daniél looked up. “We knew it was coming, right? I mean, we have a dangerous job, but what Feliks did was on a whole new level.”

“I suppose. Guess we both have some more crying and grieving to do.”

“I can’t help but think how it could’ve been me too,” Daniél continued. “I was there, where he disappeared! Whoever did this unspeakable act could’ve done the same to me too!”

“And Agents Monte Carlo and Victoria,” Tsvetan added, “they’ve been staking the place out for days and they have not been caught yet. Agent Phoenix was unlucky, that’s all.”

“I suppose.”

“But still, I promise not to off myself if you won’t. Because let’s face it, if we did, Patch would just drag our backsides out and kill us anyway for giving him more to cry over.”

“We can’t leave that kid on his own,” added Daniél.

True. Tsvetan hated everything about his existence, but who knew what Andrei would do if he died? The man was a mess as it is, and needed someone to keep him grounded, if that was still possible. Andrei was more or less all he had left, and he had a sneaking suspicion Alin wouldn’t be happy if anything happened to his kid brother on his watch.

“Is that little shit all I have left to live for?” he asked no one in particular.

“Well there’s taking down Commonwealth and as many of its members as possible. Just think about it. We will one day have enough information to storm their headquarters- wherever that is- with as much force as needed and more.”

“No one will escape,” Tsvetan grinned as he lit up a cigarette, offering one to the other. “We’ll either take them as prisoners or dispose on the spot. I’m done playing nice with these people.”

 

...

 

Luca’s head swam as he came to, groggily entering the world of the awake with some protest. He mumbled to himself as he struggled to catch his breath, neck stiff and sore from the cold night air and odd angle he’d slumped into. When he finally opened his eyes, he found he was leaning against a dozing Andrei, barely holding on to two paper cups of what smelt like cheap coffee, but for the life of him, he couldn’t remember how he came to be here.

His head swam as he glanced down, finding someone had laid him down on a wooden bench at the far end of a riverside car park. There were flashing lights, grim police officers, tents and vans and equipment too far away to see. He wondered why there was so much fuss.

And, more pressingly, why the hell was he sleeping on a bench with his boss?

He, ever so slowly, sat up, causing Andrei to protest with a whine and squirm at the disappearance of warmth. Luca only just managed to grab the coffees in time, but they sloshed and splashed, scalding the man’s legs.

Andrei awoke with a yowl, jumping up and patting down his trousers. Luca, despite being freezing, faint and sore, laughed at the comical gesture.

“Well, aren’t you rude, boy,” Andrei growled, “and after all the trouble I went to making sure you woke up comfy.”

“If this is your idea of comfy,” Luca glanced down at the bench, “then remind me to never say yes to any sleepovers.”

“It was the best I could do under these circumstances.” Andrei sat back down beside him, snatching his coffee back.

“Well, thank you then,” Luca threw him a polite smile. “Is this for me?”

His smile was returned. “Yeah, there was an all night cafe down the road. It probably tastes like shit, and I’m sorry they didn’t have a nice, strong shot of vodka, but it’s something.”

“I appreciate it.” Luca took a sip and, to his lack of surprise, it tasted awful, like watery mud, but the warmth was welcome nonetheless. “Very sweet,” he commented with a smile. It seemed like a whole mug of sugar had been used to brew the thing. Just the way he liked it.

“Milk and five sugars, that's how you take it, right?” Andrei ask apprehensively.

“How did you know?” Luca hadn’t believed he’d mentioned it to his boss, nevermind the man actually remembered.

“Tsvetan told me,” Andrei explained quickly.

“And where is he?” Looking around, Luca saw no sign of his gruff coworker.

“Off with Agent Magyar, probably trying to process everything.”

“Like what?”

Andrei stared at him, and at the bruise just visible on his forehead. “What the hell are you talking about? You know why we’re here, right?”

“Um…” Luca’s eyebrows knotted together as he tried to work through a headache, “oh, shoot! Feliks! Is he okay?”

“No,” Andrei replied flatly, “he was cut up into pieces. You fainted at the sight of the body.”

“So I did,” Luca rubbed his head, “sounds about right. I had that problem in university with the diagrams. It's why I didn't pursue a career in forensic science after I graduated. I think I’m remembering bits now. It gets a bit blurry after we got out of the car.”

“You seem to be taking this well,” commented Andrei.

“Give me a minute. It’ll hit me soon.”

Andrei gave him all of five seconds. “Ready?”

“So what can we learn from the body?” Luca replied weakly.

No one disturbed them as Andrei leaned closer, taking a notebook and tape recorder out of his pocket and handing them back to the other. “Clean cut. Clearly done by a professional.”

“So a doctor? Or maybe a butcher.” Luca flipped open his notebook to a new page, scribbling down a mindmap of ideas in shorthand. His brain was still a mess, but the facts were starting to come together. Agent Phoenix was dead. His dismembered torso had been found in the Spree, by the two Polizei on duty.

“What condition was his body in?” That was something Luca had quite firmly blocked from his consciousness.

“Head, arms, legs… appendages, all clean off.” Both men winced at the thought. “And he’d been gutted. Everything gone. I don’t know what the others have been discussing, but I’m stumped.”

“Sounds like Phoenix has been stumped too,” Luca replied before he even knew it.

“That wasn’t funny, Fondue,” Andrei growled.

“I know. I apologise.”

“But how did he end up there?”

Luca shrugged. “I assume DNA evidence is out of the question.”

Andrei sighed. “It seems so. He’d been in the river a long time. Who dumps a body in the river? It’s such a rushed way to dispose of a body, especially in a city like this where anyone could stumble upon it. Surely Commonwealth would have better resources for this sort of thing. And where’s the rest of him? Gilbert said they’ll be sweeping the river for more parts and evidence, but I don’t know what he’ll find.”

As Luca went to copy all this down on the page, he paused as a cold chill shot down his spine, like he himself had been thrown in a river. Of course! How was it not more obvious?

“It’s a warning,” he whispered, “they’re sending us a warning to back off or we’ll all end up like Phoenix.”

“Fuck ‘em,” Andrei snarled, “they don’t intimidate me.”

“Bold words,” joked Luca, “but are you not even a little afraid?”

“You know,” began Andrei, “when I said I couldn’t find any vodka at this time of night, well, that was a blatant lie. You were just taking a while to wake up. So no, right now, I’m not afraid.”

“Shocking.”

“I mean it though,” Andrei continued, “fuck them! They’ve taken so much from us! Come on Agent Fondue, you feel it too. I’m done! I’m done with their mind games and them having the upper hand on us! I’m done with always being two steps behind the bastards and constantly paying the price. We… we can do this together!” He leaned heavily on Luca’s shoulder. “All of us!”

Luca sighed. “You’re drunk.”

“You should join me.”

Another sigh. “This whole day has been shit. You’re pushing yourself too hard again. We can all see it.”

“So what?” Andrei raised an eyebrow, “no one else is gonna do this sonuvabitch job.”

“You mean besides your team?” Luca scoffed, “come on, we’re here for you!”

“Shut up you spy,” Andrei was only half serious as he mumbled accusations, “and not the good kind of spy. You spy spy.”

“You need to go to sleep,” Luca told him.

“Fucking fantastic idea.”

“In a real bed,” Luca shoved the half-sleeping man leaning against him, “not here. Look, I’ll get the others, phone a taxi, and you can all stay at my place. It’s pretty near and I have some spare bedrooms. We can come back tomorrow with a clear head.”

Andrei didn’t reply immediately, rocking back and forth as he stared at the ground with bloodshot eyes.

“That… I would appreciate that,” he replied gruffly, “the other two won’t be taking this well.” He hiccupped. “And Tsvet was just starting to function again…”

Luca stood up, smoothing down his creased, freezing trousers. After brief deliberation, he held out a hand to his boss, who took it after even less deliberation.


	3. Target

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, chapter three of book two, the main couple finally meet! But to be fair this isn’t a romance novel in the slightest. Well, there are ships, but they’re either not focused on, too unhealthy to call romance, or both. Well, besides this main pair now that they’ve met. But it’s still a spy story! Or angst with a hint of shitpost.  
> Ah the aroma of finely tuned shitposting...

It was a beautiful day outside, hot enough for Peter to don just his favourite blue T-shirt and a pair of bright shorts but not so bad his wig was unbearable. The thing still itched in places though, but he tried not to let it get to him. He attempted to look casual, at home here, milling about next to a crowd gathered around a pizza stand, scanning the narrow walkways for his target. He could see why the man frequented the place; it was beautiful! On the other side of him was a stall selling tray upon tray of different coloured spices, and opposite was a stall full of fruit and veg. He’d already passed the time waiting for his target in a clothes tent and bought some ribbon and materials he knew Agent Edelweiss would like, and some balls of wool for his isi and papa.

Still, he didn’t come here to shop; he was on a mission.

Today was the day! After Agent Fondue had made up his face two days ago, he’d been slowly forming the perfect plan to get Mr Adnan’s attention. Yesterday, he’d spied on the man as he walked through the Turkish market in the evening, observing his route and the stalls he stopped at, and now he was made up, kitted up and ready to befriend him as Willie Cook.

Kuzey Adnan was here today too, paper bags in his arms, smiling as he talked to an old woman selling desserts. With a pair of tongs, she piled little cakes into a plastic tub for him whilst he talked about things Peter was too far away to hear. He seemed so peaceful, innocent even. Peter could scarcely believe this man was supposed to be dangerous. 

But he was, and his job was to bring him down with as much information as possible. 

Even if he was kinda cute.

Peter scowled to himself. That was not the sort of attitude he needed to go into this mission with! He hated this man. Adnan was trouble and- although a pretty face would make pretending to like him easier- Peter was determined to find out all he knew and get out alive. His parents had lost too many children as he was and he was determined to be smart about this.

As Adnan moved on to the next stall, Peter made his move, ducking behind the stalls and sneaking forward, climbing over boxes and thankfully being unnoticed by the stall owners. He hurried to get in front of Adnan, reappearing a few metres ahead of him, wedged between a man selling crafts and a jewellery stall. There he was, walking slowly, admiring the stalls around him but determinedly ignoring the other people. Perfect.

Time for Willie Cook to spring into action. 

Peter stepped forward into the sunlight, stuffing his hands into his pockets and trying to look as nonchalant as possible, not staring directly at Adnan but knowing where he was out of the corner of his eye.

Time to strike.

Peter strode forward, chin up, confident as he barged into his target, only feeling the tiniest sting of remorse as he dropped his shopping.

“Oh God sorry,” he exclaimed, crouching down to join Adnan in scooping up assortments of fruit and his tub of sweets, which thankfully hadn’t burst open and spilt everywhere. “Oh no your shopping!”

“Watch where you’re going next time, idiot,” Kuzey snapped, not even bothering to look at Peter.

“I didn’t mean it,” he gushed, stuffing oranges into one of the paper bags that Kuzey simply snatched back. People were staring, side-stepping out of the way and Peter, even though the scene was caused deliberately by him, couldn’t help feeling self-conscious. No wonder Adnan was in a foul mood over it. "Please forgive me."

“Look,” he growled, “it’s fine. Just get out of my way already.”

“Hey come on, I really mean it,” Peter gave a friendly smile that wasn’t returned; time to try the next phase of his plan. This wasn’t going so well though. “Look, let me make it up to you.”

“I don’t want compensation I want you to leave me alone.” Kuzey stood up, struggling to keep his ripped paper bag together, but as he tried to push past him, Peter held him back, a hand on his chest. 

“Come on,” he soothed, throwing the guy a charming smile and trying his best to make his voice sound like butter, “at least let me buy you a coffee to say sorry.” He threw a wink for good measure that was about as effective as a condom made of cheap cling film.

“Yeah, no, sorry,” Kuzey barged past, “get out of my fucking way damn.” As he left, Peter caught what was clearly a string of curses in Turkish.

“Oh.” Dumbstruck, Peter could only watch him go.

Well now what?

 

…

 

Her knees were sore and her legs numb with cold and poor circulation, tired but unable to drop off due to her uncomfortable position and the task at hand. Monique was crouched in a hedge behind a wire fence, Oscar wedged up against her in just as much discomfort. At least they were invisible here, hidden and hopefully not about to share Agent Phoenix's fate. She'd been there for the autopsy- an unsurprisingly quick procedure- and the images were burnt into her brain, what she saw every time she closed her eyes. 

So far they had found little out from their vigil, only that a handful of trucks were parked outside and the place was full of scientists wandering about in white coats.

The pharma building was where a new drug was being developed, supposedly for anemia, and throughout her research, Monique hadn’t found any dirt on them. No scandals, no lawsuits, nothing. What the hell were they doing mixing with a group like Commonwealth? Had they been blackmailed? Monique suspected that would be the excuse, at least, when this whole thing was busted open.

Would it be busted open though? She feared this would be another dead end, but they had all worked so hard, and now they had locations and one suspect. They couldn’t lose all this progress now! Not after they worked so hard getting this far.

Anemia tablets, Mr Wang, refugees and the homeless. They had some of the puzzle, but right now the pieces just didn’t seem to fit at all, not with each other and barely with Commonwealth. 

“Would it be too much trouble,” began Oscar quietly, “if I were to confess something?”

Monique glanced about the place, but the coast was clear, “go on, Victoria.” Both kept their voices low, barely making noise, even.

“I know it is selfish to think of my own at a time like this, to you of all people,” he gulped, mouth suddenly dry, “but I worry for my family’s safety. I’m really terrified.”

Monique frowned. Yes, preaching to the choir, that boy was, but she didn’t blame him.

“Talk to Magyar about it,” she suggested, “he could put them into a safe house. Maybe even send them to another country.”

Oscar sighed. “Jem would never go- she’s too stubborn for that- and we could hardly send Willie off on his own. But what if they’re next?”

“We can only hope they won’t be targeted,” Monique told him, “after all, you have remained in the background of our work all this time.” For his own protection. Oscar was the baby of the group, after all, and whilst they all agreed to the risks that came with the job when they signed up, they didn’t want to risk his life at his age. Plus, he was too pretty to be tortured.

“I know, Monte Carlo, but I have worked on the case regardless,” Oscar glanced around once more before giving another sigh. They were still alone, thankfully. “Oh, never mind. I’m being selfish again. In fact, I don’t think I’ve had a chance to properly offer my condolences in regards to Angelique.” 

Monique didn’t answer immediately. “Look, few people have agreed to this. None of the group, in fact, but, would you mind accompanying me to Angie’s funeral?”

“Really?” Oscar’s eyebrows shot up. 

“I cannot go through such a day alone,” admitted Monique, “Francis was bad enough, but there was Angie and everyone with me.”

“No I understand,” Oscar rested his hand on hers, giving it a squeeze to go with his reassuring smile. “I will be there, rest assured I would never leave you to go through that on your own.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s not as long as it was last time, does that could for something?   
> But yeah, all the planning the DSA did, all the resources at their disposal, and Peter goes for the old pretending to bump into someone to start up a conversation trick. Fucking little spengy meltboy. How does he even have this job? How has he outlived two siblings isn't natural selection a thing?  
> Sometimes I forget Hutt River is in this.


	4. Toris

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I need to keep on top of this one. And Just Kids too, I got a long way to go on both. I’ve got to get some sort of routine going for these so I’m not still writing them as an old man, unless you count twenty as old then too late.

 

At the end of a quite frankly disappointing day, the last thing Peter needed was to talk to more people, but his job came first.

Tsvetan needed the notes from the autopsy on Feliks to finish his report, and had barely slept since finding out his cousin was dead yesterday. As if that man needed any more on his plate!  But he was still working, pouring himself into his reports to just not think about it for two seconds outside of a professional manner. Peter hadn’t heard so much as a weep out of him the few times he’d passed Agent Yogurt’s office, but you never knew. He was a secretive man, heart in a stone cage that had more or less been squeezed dry of every ounce of emotion and resolve. He’d cried too much these past few weeks, and Peter didn’t blame him for hiding away from the world, to give himself time to digest yet another loss.

Peter knew what that was like, to an extent.

Luca, Oscar and Monique were already sat outside a little cafe, in deep conversation with the two officers whilst poking at cake slices and pastries halfheartedly. They all wanted to just go home, Peter could easily tell. He would just say his bit, collect the notes and leave, get it over and done with and hopefully the others would wrap up soon enough.

He wondered if either of his parents would mind listening to him winge, or one of his brothers if he felt like being particularly mean. It was classified information, but they knew not to blab, and if Peter ever felt like they needed a reminder, all he had to do was mention waterboarding or some other form of torture his workmates would have to enact on them. That usually did the trick. Not that he'd ever grass up a family member and let them be tortured.

“You got that report,” he growled as he settled down amongst them, glancing around to make sure they were not receiving unwanted attention. “I won’t keep you long.”

“This is what I’ve been given so far,” Luca whispered as he handed his workmate a plain brown envelope. “Please understand we have far fewer answers than questions at this point, and with how much we have to go on, I don’t think that will be changing anytime soon.”

“I see.” Peter wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. Maybe Agent Fondue didn’t want to go revealing personal information in public report actually detailed everything they needed to know. He could hope.

“And have you two anything to report?” he turned to the two officers, in plain clothes and standing just behind Oscar.

“Afraid not,” sighed Hassan, “ever tried drawing a chalk outline over running water?”

“Please tell me you didn’t actually-”

“Why is everyone surprised when I make a joke?” Hassan looked genuinely hurt at that.

“Does this look like a time for joking?” Peter shook his head, “have you at least found what point Phoenix was dumped?”

“Nothing, sorry.”

Peter tried not to let his frustration show. He knew it could be a cold case from the get-go, but he was working with the best in the business so had hoped they could find something no one else could, like they had before when things seemed hopeless. There was no point taking miracles for granted though.

“Alright,” he pocketed the file, standing up and nodding to the crowd, “I suppose it’s time to take my leave; I bid you all good day.” With a flair, he finished off his last drop of tea and stepped out into the pavement, only to recoil in horror as a figure grabbed him by the collar.

“What the-”

“Where is he?” cried the figure, a young man with a mess of brown hair and the strong smell of kvass, “I know you know something!”

“Sir!” Officer Nguyễn moved forward, but Peter gestured at her to stay.

“What do you mean?” he asked.

“Feliks! I know you know Feliks! You can tell me where he is, and my Raivis too!”

“Toris?” Peter’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, Toris,” the man hissed, “and you will tell me where they are!”

“Look, calm down and we can talk about this,” he tried.

“No,” Toris spat, “tell me where they are!”

“I can’t, not here,” Peter pulled him to one side, “here, calm down, I’ll buy you a coffee, and we can talk about it. Look, I might know some stuff, and you might too, so why don’t we work together?”

Toris thought for a moment, and Peter worried he would start up again, but luckily the man relented. “Okay, fine. But I have to ask first: did you make Feliks disappear?”

“What? Of course not!” Peter glanced around before leading him to a spare table; “look, sit down and we’ll talk.”

Toris was seated with no incident, but he was still glaring up at Peter. “Where are they?”

Before Peter could reply, he took a moment to study the sorry story that was Feliks’ friend, and what he found was someone left behind. Toris did stink of old alcohol, but he himself looked reasonably sober, and his clothes, though worn, were cared for as best he could. Those eyes- now harsh and pained- looked like they’d been friendly, once. He was thin, probably starving, with pinched cheeks and sunken eyes.

With that in mind, Peter pinched Oscar’s plate of fresh Danish pastries, just delivered by the waitress, ignoring his cousin’s protests and setting them in down in front of Toris. He threw his most hospitable smile, and that was all it took for Toris to tuck in, still attempting to maintain a sense of dignity as he tore into the flaky pastries with his fingers, practically inhaling the things.

“Look,” Peter sat down opposite him, and made to reach out a comforting hand, but Toris just shifted away. When he pulled out a little black notebook, he was met with more resistance. “It’s okay, my name is Willie and I’m a journalist trying to find out what’s been happening lately.”

“Isn’t that the point of being a journalist?” asked Toris.

“I mean with the,” he leaned in closer, “missing homeless people. Look, I know you know something, and can help me with my investigation.”

“Where are they?” Toris tried again, weaker this time. Peter’s statement seemed to have done the trick though, and he did look rather alarmed.

“I’m not going to pretend I know where Raivis is,” admitted Peter. There was no way he could hang the kid’s disappearance over Toris’ head like that. “But I can tell you Feliks died saving lives.”

Toris nodded, bowing his head. “I thought as much. Don’t know why I hoped. It was Feliks, I guess, always going on about hope...” he trailed off, breathing slow and heavy.

“I’m sorry,” was all Peter could think to say.

“You’re not telling me something though,” mumbled Toris, “you know more, don’t you? Please, I need to know what happened to him. You can help?”

Peter didn’t reply.

“I followed Feliks,” admitted Toris, “the day you two met under that bridge. I know it’s bad, and I’ve never done such a thing before, but he was always disappearing, and after my little cousin I was worried he would be gone too.”

“Oh?” this was bad, really, really bad. What the hell did this man know?

“I didn’t hear what you were saying,” Toris continued, “just snippets that didn’t make any sense- my German isn’t the best. But it seemed important. I heard Feliks mention me and Raivis. I mean, I couldn’t get near without being found out.”

“I see.”

“Can you share with me what you were talking about?”

“Afraid not right now,” admitted Peter, clearly not the response Toris was hoping for, but more than likely the one he was expecting.

“Look, can you tell me anything about your cousin or the other homeless going missing?” he asked.

Toris wrinkled his nose. “You want me to tell you all I know and not get anything in return? I do not think that is a fair trade, so unless you are willing to tell me a bit more about what Feliks was up to, and how he died, you will not get a thing from me.”

“Toris, please,” Peter tried to bury his frustration. If he snapped at the man he’d probably never get anything out of him. “What you know could save lives.”

But he didn’t relent. Peter supposed, given enough time, he could break Toris’ resolve, but the fact was there simply wasn’t the time for that. “Look, give me tonight then, I will talk to my boss about what is classified or not and tomorrow afternoon I will tell you all I can.” Toris nodded at that. “And in return, will you help me?”

Another nod. “Yes, I think that is fair. Because… I haven’t told anyone, not even Feliks. But I’ve seen stuff, stuff I shouldn’t even be alive after seeing. Someone is using homeless people for something big, industrial.”

A stab of frustration shot through Peter. “Okay, well, be here same time tomorrow. Please.”

“I will.”

As Peter finished his shorthand notes, he stood up and nodded at the group of DSA and police. “My friends will get you a drink and something else to eat. Two of them are police and will make sure to look after you.”

Toris glanced over at them and gave yet another nod. “You’re not a journalist, are you, mister William?”

“That depends on what I’m allowed to tell you,” Peter admitted before walking away, only stopping to give the briefest of instructions to the other agents to look after Toris before finding somewhere a bit quieter to make his phone call, a good fifteen minutes away from the others.

Andrei was apparently not in the best mood right now, but seemed to perk up when Peter said he had information on Feliks and pretty much everything they needed to know right now.

“There’s just one problem, Patch,” Peter hissed, “our man isn’t giving us anything til we tell him what happened to Phoenix and who we are and stuff. I’m afraid we might have to tell him something confidential to get him to talk.”

“Of course things can’t be this easy,” groaned Andrei.

“What do you recommend we do?”

“I suppose telling him everything so he’ll talk, then shooting him and disposing of the body is out of the question.”

Peter was too horrified to reply.

“I’m joking!”

“Boss, you’re sick.”

“Okay, in all seriousness,” Peter heard Andrei shift in his chair, bringing the mobile closer to his mouth, “you better listen close because these are some pretty specific instructions I’m about to tell you-”

 

…

 

“You give him back now! Give them back I know you have them!”

Kuzey knew no good could come from looking up, and that the more he knew, the more years would be shed from his life, but if one hears shouting, it is only natural to investigate, and so he did, keeping as small and invisible as possible as he glanced out the window of the storeroom to the car park down below.  He didn’t recognise the mess of old coats and scraggly hair shouting up at the building, and for the life of him he couldn’t figure out how he found their headquarters. Maybe he knew nothing and was just a mad tramp screaming at his own delusions?  Either way, he was clearly making unwanted attention for them, and it didn’t take long before someone went out to silence him.

D’Andre didn’t even give him time to protest before whacking him straight in the nose, sending the tramp sprawling to the floor in a daze. As the man made to crawl away, he was pulled to his feet and dragged inside by the scruff of his neck.

Kuzey darted away from the window before he was spotted, thankful that it was more or less time to go home and yes those crates he had yet to move would just have to wait until tomorrow because he wasn’t waiting around to see more than he should.

But luck was not on his side, and within minutes of grabbing his coat and slipping into the corridor, the screaming started up once more. 

“No, stop! What are you doing?”

When the tramp was dragged into sight, down the other end of a painfully short corridor, Kuzey tried to turn away, but he couldn’t. 

“Where am I? Please, a polizei sent me here! You have my cousin I know it!”

The man was bleeding heavily from the nose, voice thick and head lolling though he still pleaded and protested, struggling to wiggle free from the iron grip of two people Kuzey had never seen before, and judging by the glee on their faces, wasn’t keen to see again. The two were terrifying in their lab coats and full-faced glass masks, one towering over the other. They seemed to get genuine pleasure from beating this man, and Kuzey turned his head in disgust.

Too late, he’d been seen.

“You! Young man!” 

Kuzey pretended not to hear.

“You! Help me, please! Tell them to stop! Help me find my cousin!”

Kuzey ignored him. It wasn’t out of spite, and had it been any other situation, he’d have tried getting his captors to back off, set him down and show a little mercy. But this just wasn’t the place or time to be a hero. He would be killed, and his entire family would be next, not just baba and his siblings, but possibly his mama and step-dad too and to be honest they all meant more to him than this stranger, even the ones he wasn’t so fond of.

“Please...” with the next punch the shorter of the two gave him, his voice grew weaker. “Please I beg you-” Another punch, and he stopped moving.

“You there, can we help you?” asked the taller, a sneering woman. She stared Kuzey down and he shook his head until it throbbed.

“No, no,” he almost whimpered, “carry on.”

And that was all it took for them to drag the unconscious tramp out of sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I always get the urge to write this whenever I have a stomach bug? I hope it’s not a hint at the level of writing. Still… #prayfortrawlsarse


	5. Speed dater

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look I’m actually updating this on time holy shet. I wonder how long that’ll last. Well, I want to go back to focusing on SOTF for a bit so maybe not.

 

Madness was the art of repeating the name process and expecting different results with each attempt, which was probably why his papa had three children with two different women before realising he could never become as straight as his own parents wanted, and was also why Peter found himself in the Turkish market the very next day hoping to pull a criminal with the exact same flirting technique. Hell, papa had watched Tino from afar for months fantasising about a relationship, and that had worked out fine for them. Except he didn’t exactly have months at his disposal to it was best to act fast and use all the charisma and charm he could muster to befriend this man.

Shame he didn’t have much to begin with, but maybe Willie Cook would be the suave, utterly irresistible social butterfly that was needed for this. That was the best thing about going undercover, really: the acting opportunities.

This time, Kuzey didn’t buy any fruit, opting for spices before moving onto the sweets stall to pick out yet another selection.

And yet again, when he moved away, 'Willie' was there to knock him to the ground.

“Are you kidding me?” Kuzey looked pretty livid now, and Peter contemplated making a run for it. This time, the container of sweets burst open onto the floor and the jars of spice smashed into pieces. It was, in every sense of the word, worse than yesterday.

“Oh I’m so sorry,” he gushed once more, “seriously, I’m such a clumsy man!”

“No kidding!” Kuzey probably wanted to strangle him right now, or cry. Or both. “What? Are you just targeting me or do you bump into everyone like some drunken lunatic?”

“Only men who dazzle me with their cuteness,” Peter tried, throwing a cheeky smile in his direction for good measure. And for the briefest of moments, it seemed to work.

“You’re going to ask me on a date again, aren’t you?” he asked dryly.

“Maybe. Yes.”

“And if I say ‘no’ will you come back tomorrow and knock my shopping out of my hands?”

“Maybe. Probably.”

Kuzey sighed. “If you pay, as compensation for my spilled food, I will go on one date to get you off my back, if you promise to leave me alone afterwards.”

Peter’s grin was ear to ear as he took Kuzey’s hand to pull him up. “Oh thank you, kind sir!” He refrained from kissing his hand in public- to save the embarrassment-, instead squeezing it ever so gently.

“It has to be a quick one though,” Kuzey told him, “I’m on my lunch break.”

“Oh? Interesting job?” He didn’t expect to get anywhere so soon.

Kuzey shrugged as he followed Peter aimlessly. “Delivery man. Nothing too fancy.”

And that was why.

“Oh, I suppose you ought to tell me your name, weird stranger,” Kuzey’s hurried subject change did catch him off guard though.

“Right, it’s William Cook, but most people call me Willie,” he smiled at that, “nice to meet you, Kuzey.”

Kuzey stalled. “How do you know my name?”

_Oh fuck._ Oh fuck oh piss oh why didn’t he think before speaking for once? Well, it was nice being a spy whilst it lasted, since he’d clearly be fired if Agent Patch ever found out about this.

“You told me,” he tried.

“No I didn’t.”

“Yes you did.”

“I’m fairly sure I didn’t,” Kuzey glared at him.

“You just did,” Peter tried, “you said your name was Kuzey and… well, I didn’t catch your last name.”

“Adnan.” Peter wasn’t sure if Kuzey had bought it, but he seemed to drop the subject, thank goodness.

“Listen, there’s a little pub on the corner here,” he continued with a hurry, “they do nice bowls of chips if you’re looking for lunch. Come on, I’ll pay for that and the drinks, like I said.”

“Fine, but nothing alcoholic for me.”

“How bout a shandy then?”

“...You know what? I think I’ll just do my own ordering.”

The pub wasn’t too far, like he’d said, and was a quaint little place he’d been in a handful of times, usually alone. The building was almost always near-empty, save for a handful of old, buff German men who came in to watch football and stare past each other for a few hours. Peter really did feel calm among the deep wooden panelling here, in a dark room where he could keep his head clear and mind sharp. Maybe now things could continue without any more hiccups.

“I’m getting an orange juice,” Kuzey told him, making his way towards the bar, “what will you have?”

“Pear cider,” Peter told him. His usual was a shot of whiskey, or a bottle if he was alone and a little traumatised by work, but this was really something he couldn’t be completely shitfaced for. Peter realised with horror that, once again, his job was forcing him to stay sober for extended periods of undercover time. Just great.

Peter paid for the drinks as promised, and the two found their own space in the corner out the way to talk.

“So is the no drinking a religious thing?” he asked because he didn’t know what else to say.

“In a way,” replied Kuzey, “it’s one reason. The other is that my baba- father- sometimes drinks heavily and it is rather unpleasant.”

_Oh_. “I’m sorry to hear that,” he muttered. Well this was an interesting turn of events, and in the few seconds spent wondering about this man’s home life, and why he would choose to live with his father, he quite forgot to wonder who mentioned such a thing on a second meeting.

“Oh no, nothing like that,” Kuzey babbled hurriedly, “he just gets embarrassing.”

_Oh_. “Oh, well mine too.”

“Yeah? Is he ‘dancing on the table singing Tarkan’s Şımarık whilst shirtless’ embarrassing?”

“No, but he’s ‘dresses in drag and fights a rottweiler with a claw hammer’ embarrassing. No wonder papa prefers staying at home having a quiet night with his knitting.”

“You have two dads?” Kuzey’s eyebrows shot up.

“Seeing as you’re on a date with another man, I assume this isn’t a problem.”

“None whatsoever, I have just never met someone with gay parents before,” he smiled at that, “it’s reassuring.”

“Well you can meet them anytime,” offered Peter, “I’m sure they’d love to talk to you.”

Kuzey’s eyes widened at that. “Let’s try a second date before we talk about meeting families, okay?”

“There’s going to be a second date?” Peter couldn’t help grinning at that.

“Maybe,” Kuzey gave a shrug, trying his best to hide how bashful he was. “Look, your company isn’t so bad, but I have to go back to work because if that old lady gets to her new house before me and all her shitty old furniture, she said she’d sue.”

“Sounds stressful,” commented Peter.

“Oh it is, but never mind.” Kuzey grimaced at that, taking out a biro to scrawl a series of numbers on a beer mat. “Look, gimme a call sometime, okay?” With a small smile, he got up and left, leaving a blushing Peter in his wake.

 

…

 

The giddiness resounding through him from his date with Kuzey did not subside despite his frustration over his late informant, even after ten minutes had passed. Maybe Toris was late because he didn’t have a home let alone a clock to put in it and still thought it was the mid afternoon or something. He didn’t know.

But he was getting places with Kuzey. This was hopeful indeed, and he hoped he could weasel as much information out of the guy as possible before he got dumped, otherwise he'd just have to give him a good old-fashioned interrogation, and he didn't want to do that. Peter was a nice guy at heart.

He’d give Toris an hour at the most. That would be plenty of time, right? As his day had been successful, Peter was in no rush to go home. Besides, Isi was cooking tonight. He could wait as long as he needed.

Peter sipped his tea in deep thought. Toris would’ve been early, right? He’d probably be hours early in order to not miss hearing what Peter had to say, which was a very tiny, controlled trickle of information. 

Andrei had- however- suggested letting Toris join as an unofficial agent- the new Feliks, to be callous- if he wanted to know more, because that man was probably a gold mine of information and didn’t seem to have any anxieties that needed to be overcome, unlike Agent Phoenix. Well, not social ones, at least. That was helpful when it came to undercover work.

But would he accept?

It would help if the man hadn’t disappeared off the face of Germany, for starters, and when Peter took his second sip, it was with a stab of dread and uncertainty.

Toris would show up again, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man it’s so fun writing TRNSeas again I need to write more for this pairing. And draw them too. They’re really fun to draw and I do neglect them too much.


	6. Intelligence

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need… to update this consistently… fack…
> 
> Sorry about that. I really love this AU and working on it with Surya, and it’d be really cool to finish something of this length, with all it’s little twists and turns. I wonder if I can get all the ‘books’ in the series finished at some point. This is the start of book two of… possibly five so here’s hoping. Man I gotta start working on this properly holy shit.

 

“It’s to get as close as possible to him,” Peter insisted for what could’ve been the hundredth time already.

Franz just gave a ‘hmph’, continuing to peer through the tinted windows of their car, back from repairs thanks to the Im Yong Soo incident [or Peter's driving] and good as new. Peter, meanwhile, had the tiniest of cameras complete with long range lense trained on the door to Mr Wang’s office, a seemingly dull little doorway in a backstreet, hardly worthy of any note at all. The building itself seemed about as wide as a staircase and stretched up four storeys, like the two office blocks either side had pinched and squeezed it to a columnar mess. On the other side of the cracked, pothole-riddled concrete road was a line of garages completely sprayed in graffiti, and beyond those apartment buildings Peter wondered if they could rent at some point, to observe the man from a distance a little further from the firing line. Maybe have someone posted there undercover. It could work.

Mr Wang’s office itself was bordered with cardboard boxes and the remains of wooden grates, and an old skip. He tried to wonder who on earth would be so desperate as to seek legal help in a place like this, but he could barely get the thought out before it struck him: refugees. Of course. They’d seen far, far greater horrors- that would actually warrant being called so-, and it didn’t matter what this place looked like for the two seconds they’d have to look at it, they’d be sat down, given a job and be sent on their merry way. 

Right?

_ What the hell was going on here? _

So far they’d not found a lot out, really. After following Kuzey Adnan from a distance, they’d observed him as he entered Mr Wang’s office half an hour ago, and since then the two of them had more or less been stuck here, taking the occasional location shot.

“How close are we talking?” enquired Franz in a tone that suggested he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to know.

“I will befriend him,” Peter stated flatly, “I will make him think he has an ally in this cruel world. I will make him fall deeply in love with me if I must, and he will let slip secret after secret because he trusts me so much and I would never leave or give up on him. I do not care what he does for a living and he loves me for it. And then… then, when I have all that I need I will toss him aside and he can nurse his broken heart in prison.” He punctuated his little monologue with a chuckle, whilst Franz simply rolled his eyes.

“You get weirder every day.”

“You don’t. Only because you can’t get any weirder.”

“Shut up he’s coming out!”

Mr Adnan left out of the same door he entered, clutching a laptop bag tightly in one hand, like it would combust if he dropped it. He seemed more than a little on edge as he glanced around, as opposed to calm and apprehensive as he entered, Peter and Franz sinking in their seats out of sight, even though the windows were tinted beyond hope of being seen through from the outside. Peter held up his tiny camera though, snapping pictures at an alarming rate. He was sure they didn’t need this much reconnaissance, but one could never be too careful in situations like this, and maybe one detail in one frame could be just what they needed to find more clues.

“You’re such a creep,” muttered Franz, glaring at Peter in mild disgust.

“What? We need to take some surveillance pics.”

“They’re crotch-shots and you know it.”

“They’re actually not,” Peter replied in a childish voice.

“What the fuck ever let’s wait for him to get out of sight and leave.”

 

...

 

Mei knew she could get in trouble if anyone found out.

The entire DSA was probably in that church- including their mole- and she knew it was so unbelievably stupid but there was that tiny, one-in-a-million chance that someone else knew who she was. Mei didn’t know how much the DSA knew about Commonwealth, but she wasn’t planning on finding out just yet, plus she knew at least one person in there would recognise her and rat her out to the boss. For putting her own needs above Commonwealth’s. For threatening their tight security.

She just wanted to say goodbye to Angie.

Mei stood in the rainy carpark alone, wrapping her baby pink smock tighter around her in an attempt to keep out the cold and rain, though it did little to quell the chill in her nerves. She hoped it had been quick, that Angie didn’t have to suffer. There probably wasn’t time to think of her in the midst of the fight, of their future that should have been, but Mei couldn’t help it. Was her face the last thing Angie thought about before she died? She assumed the idea would bring her comfort, but it seemed to simply have the opposite effect instead and now she ached worse than ever now. Would she have to leave? Get out to mend her heart and move on, away from Commonwealth and all that would remind her of Angie. There would be no escape to the Seychelles for them.

Mei wouldn’t be going inside. Even though the rain was picking up now, she was freezing and her little black pumps were soaked through, she didn’t even move to stand in the porch because any minute now people would flood through those doors and she’d have to make a hasty retreat.

Like now, for instance.

Monique seemed to do a double take as she caught sight of Mei, now wishing she’d had the sense to wear something a little less conspicuous. 

“Oh, are you a friend of my sister’s?”

Mei stopped her clumsy attempt at an escape then and there. Monte Carlo didn’t know?

 

…

  
  


Monique knew. She recognised Mei from her research almost immediately- the middle child and only daughter of Mr Yao Wang, a key player in everything they were working towards, but boy was she not saying anything here.

She looked as heartbroken as Monique did, so for today, for this one moment, she would feign ignorance. Maybe there would be a chance to talk to her later about all this. The girl must have been close to Angie, right? Unless she was simply new to Commonwealth and her family’s line of work, and was still distraught over the death of every co-worker, especially ones a similar age to her, no doubt. Maybe they had been friends, maybe more, maybe they meant nothing to each other. She would find out, though now they were just two bereaved women, no spy or criminal nonsense, no weight of how they were mortal enemies. Just the two of them being there. For Angie.

In all honesty, Monique appreciated how the girl was willing to risk so much to be there at Angie’s funeral. Oscar was back in that big empty church with only the priest and Angie’s body for company, and she herself needed some air. Alone time. To think and take everything in. It was too much. Too soon. Not again. Her world was crashing down around her, leaving only solitude and emptiness in its wake, a void that would only be able to be filled with work. Vengeance.

“Oh, um,” Mei turned back to face her. “Yeah, I’m a, um, colleague. From the fishmonger?”

Right, Angie’s supposed job. “Right. Would you like to come in and take a seat?” There was plenty of room.

“Oh no, I just wanted to… to… I just wanted to offer condolences.” She didn’t look at Monique as she spoke, boring holes into her thin shoes.

“I see. Well, thank you.” Monique bit her lip, knowing full well bright red lipstick would now be covering her teeth. “Angie didn’t really talk about work much, so I cannot say I recognise you, but if you meant enough to my sister to come here, then you’re most welcome to talk. Any time you want.”

“Your sister meant a great deal to me, yes,” replied Mei, “and thank you. Maybe if something good were to come out of this, it would be us becoming friends, maybe?”

  
  



	7. Date night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hi just wanted to slip in a little spytalia update and actually keep progress for this fic at a regular pace. It’s been like three years and IDK about anyone else but I’m still in love with this au and want to commit to finishing this fic series. Plus I want to cheer up Surya hope you’re feeling better.
> 
> Also, this chapter is pretty cute and sometimes it’s fun to write silly, goofy fluff involving Kuzey and Peter. In fact, out of the context of the fic you could almost believe this was a romantic comedy. Shame i don’t like romantic comedies and this is actually a sad spy fic.
> 
> But for now it’s nice to write some wholesome TRNSea. Also, the song I had in mind for this chapter is ‘still in love with you’ by Electro Velvet, but feel free to imagine a different song here.

 

The stupid wig was itching again.

Peter tried his darndest to not scratch too hard though, in case he moved it too far without noticing, and how exactly do you explain wearing a brunet wig whilst clearly having healthy locks of blond hair? What could he even use as an excuse in that situation? As he waited patiently at his table for his date to arrive, Peter took a moment to inspect his reflection in the back of his spoon- just in case. 

Finding no problem whatsoever, he settled back into his routine of fidgeting constantly and taking in his surroundings.

This restaurant would make up part of his job expenses, and thus Peter decided to choose the fanciest, most expensive place that he’d longed to visit for years now and oh _God_ Andrei had looked on the verge of slapping him when Peter had mentioned the name. What was his problem? He wasn’t paying for it either. It did reflect badly on him, Peter supposed, Andrei’s agents taking the piss like this, but oh well. Peter risked his life on a daily basis for the entire world and he deserved some compensation. And he would most humbly accept a nice meal with an attractive man as compensation.

Said attractive man was running rather late though, and Peter couldn’t help worrying. Getting stood up by the date he was supposed to be spying on? Peter would be the laughing stock of the secret agent community!

Why was everyone staring at him? Did he have something in his teeth? Was his wig askew? Or maybe it was simply the fact that he looked pretty damn much like he’d been stood up, and would soon be walking home alone with a broken heart. Well, that was what it would look like, in reality it would be more frustrating than upsetting, surely.

A commotion from across the restaurant caught his attention, and he looked up to see a rather flustered Kuzey gesticulating wildly to the maitre de, who gave a hefty sigh and pointed towards Peter’s table. 

“I’m so sorry,” he gushed after navigating a sea of tables and annoyed diners- and almost elbowing an old lady into her soup- “work kept me late and I got lost-”

“Hey it’s fine,” Peter waved a hand, standing up to pull out Kuzey’s chair for him. The man, however, did not seem interested in being seated anymore.

“Um,” Kuzey glanced downwards, letting a moment of confusion linger on Peter’s face before giving an awkward cough. “You know your shirt is inside out?”

Well, on the one hand, that explained a lot. On the other… “Wait? Really?” Peter glanced down to find that- yes- he, in his hurry to get there early, had somehow managed to throw his shirt on inside out. No wonder he felt stupidly uncomfortable, and no wonder everyone was staring at him like he was the biggest pleb to ever be let in the establishment. 

“Oh bother,” he groaned, throwing his arms in the air and making a grand show of being embarrassed. He’d have to slip into the bathroom to change later- right now he needed to keep Kuzey’s attention long enough to convince the man to stay- at least for the first course.

“Hey don’t worry about it,” Kuzey tried to throw him a reassuring smile, “I can see you’re nervous; it’s… endearing.” He accepted Peter’s offer to hold out his chair, sitting down graciously.

“Thank you,” replied Peter, taking his own seat, “good day at work then?”

“Long,” Kuzey blew a tuft of fringe from his forehead, “then baba wanted to know where I was off to and I had to tell him it was a date.” The man grimaced at that; “but that just led to more questions.”

“I know how you feel.” Peter himself had found it hard to tear himself away from Tino and his excited babbling over his son’s mystery guy. He eventually silenced the old man by explaining the entire situation and no, he should not start making plans for son-in-law two. It had been dejecting to see Tino’s plans for the inevitable wooly jumper gift unravel in his eyes- the same look as when he found out that Kumar had died.

“Parents, huh?”

“Yeah,” Peter rubbed his chin, “so what does your dad think of me?”

“To be honest, I’m not sure what to think of you yet,” admitted Kuzey, “but I thought it would be best not to let slip any… details about you just yet.”

“And your mum?”

“Lives in Cyprus. We don’t get along anyway.”

“Right, I see,” Peter decided not to pry further; dysfunctional family life was hardly second date conversation material, and he wasn’t interrogating the man just yet.

“And what do your dads think of me?”

Peter thought about that for a moment. To be honest, both his dads thought Kuzey could be dangerous, but it was probably best not to say that. “My isi- my Finnish dad- was very excited about the news. I’m sure papa was too- hard to tell with him.”

“You’re from Finland?” Kuzey’s eyebrows shot up, “I don’t think I’ve met anyone from there before.”

“No but my isi is,” Peter smiled, “I’m actually English- my papa adopted me during his time living there when I was little. I don’t remember a lot about my home country though, having grown up in Sweden most of my life- papa being Swedish.”

“I see.”

“I guess isi would technically be my step-dad.” No need to bring up the disaster that was Berwald’s first marriage though. 

“Oh, right. Brothers and sisters?”

“I’m one of six,” Peter grinned at that, “two of us are adopted though. Three belong to papa and one to isi. They liked collecting children. And you?”

“Wow that’s a big family. How do you find the time for each other? I have a sister and two brothers and they all drive me mad.”

“Big families have their merits, I suppose,” Peter shrugged, “you know, if you’re in need of bone marrow or a kidney.”

“Or someone to take the blame for you,” Kuzey added with a smile.

“Yeah everyone still thinks it was Lars who shoved that meatball in the video player.”

“It’s great at work too,” added Kuzey, grinning briefly before his smile fell.

“You work with your siblings?” Now they were getting somewhere.

Kuzey looked away. “Erm, yes.” He picked up his menu and tried to look like he was browsing through the appetisers.

“All of them?”

“Baba too.”

“Wow, that must be fun,” four new names of Commonwealth members? Boy, was he good. Maybe Andrei would reconsider that raise now.

“Yeah, sure,” Kuzey sighed, “oh, you never told me what you did. Must be something big to afford places like this.” 

Peter leaned in closer. “I’m a government spy.”

Kuzey scoffed. “Okay, be serious now.”

“Oh, nothing too fancy,” Peter waved a hand, “stocks and shares, very boring.”

Kuzey perked up at that. “That’s not boring at all; what have you bought stock in?”

“Um, Lidl,” he tried, “Aldi. Nothing too major.”

“Reckon I’d be able to buy in?”

“Maybe. I’ll have to see,” Peter hoped he wasn’t sweating too profusely. “But I still live with my parents so don’t expect the biggest profit.”

“Right. So what are you having?”

“Roast beef sounds good,” Peter glanced down at the menu- it would probably be too small to fill him up, but taste insanely good. That was how it worked in these fancy restaurants, right? “You?”

“Might try the duck a l’orange, to be honest. And oysters for appetizers,” he grimaced for a moment, “maybe we can go Dutch; don’t want you forking out for someone you hardly know.”

And like every other time he’d heard the phrase ‘go Dutch’, Peter had to resist the urge to put on a ridiculous Dutch accent. “It’s fine. I don't mind paying.”

That didn’t seem to help the situation, in all honesty. “Look,” Kuzey was, once more, avoiding eye-contact, “if you do pay, you’re not going to expect me to do… you know, anything I’m not comfortab-”

“Oh heavens no!” cried Peter, “look, I just wanted to make a friendly gesture, nothing ulterior about it.” Well, not in that sense anyway, and he hoped he didn’t sound like he was lying. 

 

...

 

“That was… not as good as I’d been expecting.” Maybe Peter had idolised that restaurant for too long, because the food was not to the standard he’d set. It was good, make no mistake, but he wasn’t sure he’d gotten his money’s worth. Kuzey seemed happy though.

“I didn’t think I’d ever like anything flavoured with orange again,” he explained, “but that was alright.”

“Not an orange fan?” Peter loved his fruits and vegetables like he was an evacuee living off rations. 

“My brother sold them,” Kuzey rolled his eyes, “damned fridge used to be full of the things.”

“Cucumbers are better anyway.”

“Okay then.”

And that was that- they were stuck in an awkward silence. Peter’s mind scrambled for something to talk about, to keep the flow of conversation up so Kuzey would think there was a spark between them, chemistry entangled in their every words. “Who do you think would win in a fight between Spongebob and Optimus Prime?”

Kuzey’s only reply came in the form of a groan.

“Now,” despite everything, Peter thought it wise to continue on this conversation, “I know a lot of people would say Optimus Prime, but I-”

“That’s pretty.” Kuzey wasn’t even subtle about ignoring Peter’s rambling; “hey Willie, look.”

When Peter followed his gaze across the small cobblestone square they found themselves in, towards a modest fountain illuminated in the dark by sparse street lighting and the lights of the one shop left open, he had to agree. “I guess.” The water twinkled in the dim light, and the way it collected in a shallow, shimmering pool was rather pleasing to the eye.

And like that, he had the cheesiest, sappiest idea possible, ripped straight from some advert he saw years ago. It was terrible, but so romantic and smooth it might just work.

“Hey, sit here,” he guided Kuzey to the nearest bench, pulling out his phone and scrolling through his music player to find the perfect song- ah yes, a little electroswing ditty he knew all the words to. Then he placed his headphones on Kuzey’s head and pressed play.

He started dancing immediately because he knew the music would have, snapping his fingers and shaking his hips. 

At once, Kuzey was grinning at the spectacle, and Peter’s smile widened, jumping into a side kick and shuffling towards the fountain. The words would have started now, and he was probably mouthing along in time to them. Hopefully. Maybe this was a little too rushed and spontaneous. 

He hopped onto the edge of the fountain, shuffling along before jumping back in the pool. Kuzey was clapping along now, shrieking with laughter as Peter kicked up water and ducked under the waterfall. 

He splashed a handful in Kuzey’s direction, carrying on with his goofy dance as water sparkled all around him. Then he gave an ill-fated attempt at a splits-jump out of the fountain, stumbling slightly as he landed before running back to Kuzey.

Peter plopped down on the bench next to his boyfriend, mouthing along to the next line and pulling over-the-top faces as he did so. And then he was up again, kneeling down right in his face and, having run out of moves by about now, flapping his elbows like a chicken. In fact, when he got up for the last thirty seconds or so, it was mostly to flail about, unsure if he was even in-time with the music anymore.

Kuzey peeled the headphones from his ears when the music was over, and Peter came to an abrupt halt. Okay, maybe he was a little out of step. “Well that was… something.” His eyes wrinkled from how hard he was smiling. “Was that planned or-”

“Did it look planned to you?” Peter flushed red as he took his phone back. 

“Hard to tell when it comes to you.” Kuzey stood up and- tentatively- took his hand, “but as a thanks, I’ll let you walk me home.”

“Really?” Peter beamed at that. 

Kuzey gave him a firm glare. “You can’t come in though.” 

“I won’t even try and kiss ya.”

“Good to know.”

...

 

He better not be blushing. 

Kuzey hadn’t called for an elevator yet in an attempt to try and collect himself, standing in the lobby of his block of flats with a burning hot face and sudden lack of breath. Why was he getting this way, about Willie of all people? The man was a fool, a wreck of a human being that was just so endearing in his own way.

He was endearing enough to warrant Kuzey agreeing to a third date, anyhow. Willie would call him at some point, probably tripping over his words and laughing at any little thing and he’d have to pretend to be impatient and a little irritated to hide the fact that he’d been waiting for his call.

When he finally pulled himself together long enough to actually get in the lift, Kuzey sank into the opposite wall, almost sliding to the floor as he brushed a fiery cheek and allowed himself the tiniest of smiles. Fuck, he had it bad.

He tried to bring his face back to a neutral expression as he stepped in through the front door to baba’s flat. Heracles’ presence certainly helped bring his mood down, but not quite enough, he noticed as his oldest brother bounded over to ask about his night.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually got the dancing idea from an old ad from years ago. Don’t remember what it was actually advertising, but I thought it was really cute and the idea stuck with me for years. It was like couple goals for me before couple goals were a thing.


End file.
